


Harry Potter & The Goblet of Blasted Fire

by Tranquil_Tevine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Allergic Dragons, Bees, Boss Dobby, Crack I think xD, Dicks, Dildos, Drugs, Groovy Dumbledore, Harry sexually explores himself, Humorous Dumbledore, Humorous Harry, I feel sorry for Neville, It's raining swear words, Krum is a Jaffa, Lily's Savage, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, Never take my writing seriously unless the warning says to, Ron is embarassed, Sexual References, Snape Bashing (Kind of), Snape is in need of a good lay, Snoop Dogg - Freeform, The Siiiimpsoooons, Underage drinking (not explicit really :P), You may spit out your drink, pessimistic Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-08-14 08:16:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8005342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tranquil_Tevine/pseuds/Tranquil_Tevine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An alternate scene of The Goblet of Fire,including top quality entertainment from none other than Mr Potter and the illustrious Headmaster!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Why Him?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He knew 3rd year was too tame and his 4th year would spice up. But couldn't it wait until the new year? Apparently not.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, was attempting to get the student body's attention, with little success. He made a quick decision.

 

 _'Sonorus.'_   he murmured among the chaos of the Great Hall. He faced his wand to him, clearing his throat loudly.

 

The students blatantly ignored him, some stray fireworks entered the sky amidst the noise, no doubt thanks to the Weasley twins. This time, he on purposely coughed, but this started a series of hacking coughs (not as young as he used to be you know) until the aged wizard was bent over double, attempting not to die from the force. Once his coughing fit was over, he delightedly noted that the hall was graced with blessed silence.

 

Harry took a swig of his pumpkin juice, eyeing the Headmaster with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. He nudged Ron with his elbow.

 

“Psst. Hey, I know Dumbledore's one of the greatest wizards who has ever lived, but if one of those coughs happen when he's fighting Voldefuck, he's going to the hop the stick faster than he could say viagra.”

 

Ron tried and failed unsuccessfully to restrain a snort, he expelled warm coffee from both nose and mouth, drenching the table and breaking into a coughing fit of his own. While the students around him wrinkled their noses in disgust, Harry grinned, slapping him on the back a few times, then tuning back into dear old Dumbledang. Harry liked the sound of that, he might take it up with Dumbledore later, see if he wanted to change his surname to this via depot.

 

His throat was a little sore and he noted with some amusement that young Mr Weasley fared no better. Perhaps the cough was contagious? He shook his head of stray thoughts, raising his Occlumency shields and addressing the hall.

 

“You all know, of The Triwizard Tournament taking place this year. What I am about to reveal to you will bewitch your minds, ensnare your senses, even put a stopper in your life.” He felt Severus' glare but continued “Behold, the Triwizard cup!”

 

“Did he just-” Harry blinked until he was cut off with a withering glare from Hermione.

 

With a fancy flourish of his wand and an exaggerated bow, he gestured to the cup near him. He decided not to mention to anyone that in the privacy of his own office, he'd practised that little dramatic movement. By the time another tournament came around, he'd probably not be alive to witness it, so why not make the most of the situation?

 

“I shall reveal the names of the 3 champions. Good luck to all.”

 

The fire darkened, glowing blue, before a small piece of paper looking oddly like pencil shavings floated into his outstretched palm.

 

“From Beuxbatons, Fleur Delacour!" _'Ah yes, one of the many ninnies who failed to prepare for Scotland's weather, wonderful.'_   Dumbledore muttered in his head. He shook the young woman's hand, the Goblet presenting the second champion.

 

“From Durmstrang, Victor Krum.” Dumbledore wondered if he dunked Krum in his morning cup of tea, how he'd taste? Biscuits had crumbs but they were soggy and sank to the bottom. He should change his name to Victor Biscuit. Another handshake, on with the last champion.

 

“Lastly Hogwarts' champion, Cedric Diggory!” Oh, Twilight boy. Some polite inquiries informed him that he'd taken a part-time job in acting. He starred as the role of a Vampire and many teenage girls threw their underwear at him or asked him to sign various body parts. If he swung that way, he would've taken advantage of that situation himself.

 

He was about to leave for another nice cup of tea before the Goblet spat out another name. He glanced at the parchment, barely restraining himself from taking a leap from the astronomy tower so he could end it all now. 'Harry Potter.' of course, trouble seemed to follow that boy everywhere. In truth, he was annoyed so decided to have a bit of fun. Once again raising his Occlumency shields in case his face gave him away, he made direct contact with one student in the hall, his gaze never leaving theirs, speaking in the most serious voice he could muster.

 

“Neville Longbottom.” The student body chattered among themselves, most turning to look at the boy who had gone deathly white, hands gripping the table where he sat viciously. Another shout from Dumbledore produced a green tinge in the pallor of Neville's skin. Looking as though he were about to be sick, he slowly stood up, shakily removing himself from the benches and was about to walk to the front as though the executioner had paid him a personal visit when a few manly squawks and giggles startled him.

 

Dumbledore slapped his knee, laughing to the point of where tears were streaming down his face. Staff casually pushed their chairs further back, Snape coming to the conclusion that the old coot had finally lost his nut.

 

He righted himself, taking off his glasses to rub the moisture from them and his eyes. ”I'm funnier than I thought, you should've seen your face Neville, it was a beautiful sight to behold!”

 

Neville had apparently had a sensory overload because it was too much for him to take. Eyes rolling to the back of his head, he sank to the floor in a dead faint, people wincing when his head hit the stone floor with an audible **crack.** Madam Pomfrey conjured a magical stretcher, deciding to treat the poor boy, since he may need a calming draught or two and something for a concussion.

 

The hall was silent, save for a guffaw. Dumbledore noted that the boy was unaware that everyone could hear what he was saying.

 

“Did you see Longbottom's face? He looked like he'd seen his parents being tortured. Oh, wait, he has!”

 

His eyes narrowed. ”Knut for your thoughts, Mr Malfoy? I daresay Mr Longbottom would face any task ahead with courage. I envision you crying home to daddy if a magical creature so much as looked your way. I suggest you hold your tongue, you ferrety little shit.”

 

Shocked murmurs sent a wave through the Hall, the sound was broken by one Harry Potter, red in the face with laughter and half sliding out of his seat as he tried to gain control of himself. A red-faced Malfoy could be seen sputtering in indignation.

 

“You wait till my father hears about this-”

 

“-Yes, yes of course.” Dumbledore dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Now, back to the real 4th champion. ”Harry Potter.”

 

Harry immediately recovered from his laughing fit, almost giving himself whiplash with the force he sat up.

 

“Oh bollocks!” He shouted, not even bothering to keep quiet. The hall produced a wave of giggles at that.

 

Harry thought his eyes would pop from his head. ”Nope nope nope.” he could be heard muttering, crawling under the Gryffindor table, in some faint hope Dumbledore would lose sight of him and for Merlin's sake to let him have a normal school year, which wasn't to be because as soon as he ran for the slightly ajar door, an unknown force pulled him back, sending him in the opposite direction as he landed with a crash.

 

“Accio Harry Potter!” Dumbledore called out and the twinkle in his eye grew brighter as Harry fought tooth and nail, quite literally nail as they were bleeding from the force of him scratching the stone floor in some feeble attempt to escape. Luckily, he dodged The-Boy-Who-Failed-To-Escape as he stopped with a thump near him. He'd overpowered the spell a tad, considering Harry went from the Great Hall doors to him in under 2 seconds.

 

Harry righted himself, wincing at the broken mess of nails, glaring at Dumbledore. Did he really have to do that? He just wanted to go back to his common room, perhaps leap out of the window but 'forget' his broom for the sake of a late evening flight.

 

Dumbledore wiggled his fingers in a mockery of goodbye towards the student body, using the other to beckon Harry in a _'come hither'_   motion.

 

Obliging, Harry followed. Why him? Just _one_ year, couldn't he catch a break? I mean sure 3rd year didn't involve Voldemort in any form but reliving said memories of Voldemort through Dementors and thinking someone was out to kill you but actually wasn't, THEN being chased by a werewolf who would happily use him as a human toothpick, wasn't much bloody better in his books! He was nice every other day of the month but at that time, it was beside the point.

 

The door creaked ominously as Harry descended the stairs into the trophy room. Fitting, really, since he was feeling how Neville looked before he was carted off to the Hospital Wing.

 

The 3 other champions regarded him with curiosity. Along with Crouch, McGonagall, Snape, Moody, Dumbledore, Karkaroff and Maxime, the room was packed.

 

Dumbledore knew for a fact Harry didn't put his name in, some other idiot did. The boy was a Gryffindor but even he had some self-preservation. He ignored how Harry nearly died multiple times three years in a row and decided to make this situation memorable.

 

He penetrated Harry with his stare, twinkle gone for the moment. Harry shuffled uncomfortably, scratching his head. It was just those two in that moment. He slowly moved his half-moon glasses to the tip of his nose.

 

“Harry...” Dumbledore took a deep breath here, “Did you put your name in the Goblet of FIYYYYYYAAAAAAH!” He sang the last word operatic style, pointing to the air similarly to an old disco move, slapping himself in the face with his beard, due to the force of his head movement.

 

Harry slid down a glass cabinet and lay face up on the floor, moaning and rubbing his face. Once he was composed, he just lay there.

 

“No, no, no and no. Oh, did I mention the word NO, perhaps?” Harry sighed, “I have an unwanted death wish each year and last year, that bloody bat Trelawney predicted my death. Why the hell would I volunteer to die when by default, I'm going to die?”

 

“Of course you put your name in Potter!” Snape spat, sneering. ”Just one more reason to have your little fans worship your every step. You're just like your father.”

 

Harry gave Snape an incredulous look. ”What crawled up your arse and died? I know you hate my Dad and you still get wet dreams over my Mum, but it doesn't mean to say you have to get your teeth out at me!”

 

“20 Points-” Snape spoke until Dumbledore cut over him. “-For speaking the very sad truth, Mr Potter. Well done, well done indeed!” Dumbledore offered a hand up, jovially slapping Harry on the back as he stood.

 

Most of the room didn't believe that he never put his name in and he imagined Ron would be stewing in his own jealousy. After being briefed on what it was all about, the tasks and when the first one was, he trudged outside, completely ignoring curfew.

 

Seating himself on the cool grass, he rested his head for a moment. He knew for a fact that there was probably no way to escape this contract, so he would do his best to pass the tasks in his own style.

 

 _'Fuck's sake. I'd better send an owl to Sirius while I'm out here, sod it all to hell.'_   So with that, he took a slow walk to the Owlery, conjuring some Quill, Ink and Parchment, writing a quick note. Better to hear it from Harry than from someone else.

 

* * *

 

_Sirius, my good man, how's life?_

_Say, you on friendly terms with The Dementors at the moment? Could you ask them to suck out my all-consuming sadness instead of the rare moments of happiness? Because I feel like they could do with a career change._

_What I'm saying is, you know The Triwizard Tournament, the event which has killed many many people due to all the manner of dangerous tasks throughout the years? My name's come out of the blasted goblet. I'll even provide you with the memory but I swear down on Snape's infatuation with his potions, that I didn't enter my name in. I thought it would be best to tell you rather than hearing it from Dumbledang (my new name for him now, you like it?) Anyway, I'll let you bite the rest of your fleas and scratch your arse in peace. Bye now!_

_Harry_

_P.S- Can't you come here as Padfoot and bite the ankles of the officials for them to bugger off and leave me in peace? I'm in a binding magical contract so I'll die if I leave but chances are, I'm going to die anyway. If I'm going to die I want to die happy, not dying unhappy about the thought that I'm dying._

_P.P.S- I'm almost certain Remus is reading this over your shoulder. Do me a favour old wolfy old pal and restrain Sirius. Use that reasonable voice of yours to stop him from storming the school, scaring the shit out of everyone. Thanks!_

* * *

 

 

With that, Harry attached the letter to the leg of a random owl, not knowing where Hedwig was in that moment. Harry crept back into Gryffindor Tower, deciding sleep might help to clear his head, though having a suspicion that he wouldn't get much tonight. Not bothering to undress, he flopped face first onto the bed, promptly passing out.


	2. The Jar of Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's about to face a big problem. But, he makes it an even bigger problem. Can't he ever catch a breather?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was not planned and in fact I typed it up about half an hour ago xD the things I'm in the mood for at nearly 2am. It's not going to be long, just maybe 3 more chapters. one for each of the 2 tasks and maybe the graveyard scene, I have no clue :P

Dragons. Of course, it had to be Dragons. Of **COURSE** , he had to get the most vicious of the lot. It was just his bloody luck. While he was fireproofed to the max, not much short of dodging and expert spellwork could stop a Dragon tail up his arse hole. He didn't want to lose his virginity that way, thank you very much.

  
He had a jar. A shrunken jar yes, but nonetheless a jar. A jar much bigger than it appeared. That was his distraction for The Horntail, while he sneakily swiped the golden egg from under her nose.

 

That was his plan, if it would work was another question entirely.

 

He heard the shout for his turn. By the sounds of things, each champion had fucked up somewhere along the hurdle, though all managed the task. Fleur with her singed French skirt, Cedric with a few burns, by all rights he should be dead really, what with being a Vampire and Krum, the surly and unintelligent foreign stud who assisted in the murder of unborn dragons. Harry felt a pang for Hagrid who was probably crying in his beard for the loss of lives and probably thinking of Norbert but refocused on his task, which was simple, really.

 

Naturally, with all things concerning Harry Potter, things never did turn out the way he wanted them to.

 

He cautiously entered the arena, nearly getting chargrilled sausage for his trouble as the fire was heading in his direction, but a hastily erected wall took care of that.

 

The annoying buzz of the commentator washed over him, as did the crowds. While they were given somewhat of a uniform to wear to represent their schools, Harry had chosen something more personalised. An armor of sorts, except whenever anyone stared at it directly, words of his choosing would float above.

 

_'Whoever put my name in the goblet, I hope you step on hot coals with pieces of Lego thrown in for good measure.'_

It was a profound statement and one he would stick by.

 

Pulling the jar out of his pocket, he was thankful for magic because otherwise, he'd have never got the lid off of a 20-foot wide Jar.

 

What was in the jar targeted the most threatening thing in the room. The Dragon. They may head for Dumbledore or even try and find whatever the hell Voldemort is now, but Harry hoped not. Since he summoned them, he tried some form of communication and he believed that they'd reached some sort of understanding.

 

With a swish of his wand, the jar was tilted so the lid was aiming in the direction of the threat. Moving his wand clockwise, the lid was removed and his friends were free.

 

Bees. Lots of Bees. Probably several hundred bee farms and a few wasps threw in for good measure. To his delight they did distract the dragon, though said spiky tail swishing around he'd have to watch for. They were a general annoyance but that's what he wanted. She was so focused on batting away the little stinging pests that Harry decided to take a leap of faith and snatch the egg, none of the others harmed in the process.

 

Just as the crowd began to cheer, something went horribly wrong.

 

The Dragon collapsed, strange sounds and balls of fire erupting from its nose and mouth. Was it wheezing? Coughing? Its eyes began to dart around in feverish panic and though the dragon handlers tried to help, it was too late.

 

She closed her eyes and all was silent.

 

 _'Oh fuck.'_   he thought.

 

* * *

 

 

“Well, how was I supposed to bloody know she was allergic?” Shouted Harry to Madam Maxime. “It's not as if you gave us the specifics of what you could and couldn't use against the dragons. If the dragon handlers had maybe mentioned a severe allergy to annoying stingy little buggers, I could've used badgers!”

 

“Badgers, my boy?” Dumbledore questioned.

 

“Vicious they are.” He spoke solemnly, deciding to take a seat. “Loyal to a fault, or at least that's what Hufflepuff say, I'll take their word for it."

 

Grudgingly, since it wasn't Harry's fault, Maxime raised her score from a 5 to an 8. Karkaroff remained with his 4, the bearded prick.

 

Dumbledore elected to reveal his score last, the dramatic old man.

 

He stood up, holding his scorecard. Harry looked incredulously at the score of 100, with a makeshift drawn 0 at the end.

 

“He can't do that, can he?” Was the general question of the audience.

 

“I'm the host of this tournament and if my dear colleagues want to show favouritism, I will too. Harry was creative in his technique and to this day I've never seen a dragon struggle to breathe, so the extra 90 points were for making an old man watch something he's never seen before.” he finished smugly.

 

Harry wasn't here by choice, he was just going to roll with it. He was stunned when his wandering eyes found one Remus Lupin and Padfoot. He was in no mood to lecture on the pair for Sirius' safety, genuinely glad to see them.

 

While the officials did mumble and grumble, it didn't say anything about points. In fact, it was changed on how to award the champions on completion of the tasks so much that they removed it from the books altogether. It was just so long since someone had challenged more than 10 points, that people had forgotten.

 

Harry knew that by the next two tasks even though Maxime and Karkaroff would try to do the same, he was sure the headmaster would come up with some bullshit excuse of why they couldn't award 100 points.

 

But really, all of this was boring him now so it was after a few slaps on the back and talking to Ron and Hermione that he met up with the closest thing to family he had, taking a walk to Hagrid's Hut.

 

He gave Remus a one-armed hug, transfiguring a ball out of a pebble to chuck for Sirius.

 

Harry couldn't help but laugh slightly. “I didn't mean to kill the dragon but it's not every day you see that situation happen.”

 

Remus smirked slightly. “Nothing in your life is an 'every day' occurrence.”

 

Harry shrugged. Who was he to argue with such sound logic? “I don't suppose you fancy a few beers? After all, I was The-Boy-Who-Nearly-Didn't-Live today, I deserve a break."

 

Remus saw no harm in it really. Someone had to be the responsible adult and oversee an impressionable young man and Harry did bring up a good point. If he became The-Boy-Who-Got-Drunk Remus did hope that if he did die, he could have the moniker of The-Boy-Who-Got-Laid under his belt too.

 

“What about Sirius?” Remus looked over at said animagi, trying to roll on the spongy ball but missing it entirely.

 

“In the Muggle world, they do dog beer.”

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Looks like that Mutt is sorted then.” He ignored the slight growl from his furry companion. "The Muggle world?”

 

“Why not?" He beckoned Remus to follow. “I don't think Dumbledang will care, he might want to join us sometime.”

 

Slinging an arm around each other's shoulders, a bouncing dog following their every step, the three went to the Muggle world with every intention of getting pissed. Harry gave Remus the money he had on him from his last conversion from Galleons to pounds as the man bought enough alcohol, human and non-human, for the piss up of a lifetime.

 

They were in The Shrieking Shack. Padfoot made a rather nice pillow, as he folded one arm behind his head and watched Remus down his own beers at an impressive rate. Though he'd probably wake up with a banging head, he had no regrets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With significant inspiration from DA:I :P


	3. Albus Dumbledore & His Multi-Purpose Beard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has a rather unique solution to the task ahead of him, Snape is more enraged than he ever has been in life and Harry sees a different side to Dumbledang.

Harry was almost positive that he was actually in a Mental Asylum instead of a school. What school knowingly put an underage student in a tournament where survival was questionable? Sometimes he wondered if he was better off going to a regular Muggle Secondary School, but then he remembered he wouldn't even be able to do magic for the fun of it.

  
As much as he respected Dumbledang, he was evidently one splinter short of a broken wand. The man was older than the questionably stained mattress which he slept on at The Dursleys and due to being entered under a false school, he had to participate! He had no intention of playing a straight game.

 

It was the morning of the Second Task and Harry was confident in his plan. He'd already placed a temporary barrier in front of the lake so no accidents would happen with the remaining champions diving in. He was surprised how easy it was to figure out his clue. He'd already taken a swim in the lake one morning during his second year, bravely daring the Potion Master's private ingredient stores to nick some Gillyweed. He was a pretty good swimmer but chose to learn more out of necessity since the time Dudley tried to drown him for daring to tip over his building blocks. He was such a lovable blob of a child back then, the only difference being he was now a lovable teenager with a mass rivalling that of Uranus.

 

Anyway, during his underwater adventure, of which he was shocked he was never discovered, he had heard Mermish and their singing voices. He found to his astonishment and to this day he’d never forget, that they had their own version of a church and it was in fact little Merchildren in a choir. It was rather lovely to listen to and while they were wary of him at first, they came to understand that he had no ill intentions and so left him to his own devices, namely watching the session. He came back a few more times, as he'd taken enough from the stores to last him a while. As long as Snape never found out, he'd like his balls un-severed and not swirling around in a cauldron thanks.

 

He came prepared, a basic tank top and trousers, his wand and a large backpack. He was unsure what the other champions had in mind but they'd have to change their immediate plans. Indeed, he thought they might thank him in some way. The staff and officials probably wouldn't though. Then again it wasn't permanent.

 

Harry snickered to himself, hoping that perhaps after this was over, he could have a few drinks with The Marauder duo again.

 

He barely listened to the commentator, taking the sponge which he had placed in one pocket.

 

It was only when there was an indication to start that things got confusing for people when the champions couldn't enter the water. Well, except for Harry of course.

 

He suspended the sponge in the air, letting his magic create a platform for it to rest on. While that was happening, he chanted the same words over and over, making sure to not lose his concentration.

 

“Ego Autem in Medio...”

 

Over and over he chanted until he had the desired result.

 

Everyone's jaws dropped as the sponge fell into the water with a small splash, quickly and rapidly absorbing the water around it, with the help of Harry's magic. The magic was there to not only help the sponge to expand, but to place the creatures and objects there into temporary stasis within the sponge, ensuring no damage.

 

He had to use the bottom of his top to wipe the sweat from his face as he was done, for as he let the sponge sink to the now waterless black lake, it was easily 100 feet in diameter, if not more. He settled it in one corner, ready to cancel out the magic once the task was finished.

 

He heard a few splutters of protestation, but he was sure that no one had bothered to remove the biggest obstacle in the task entirely instead of trying to overcome it. In Harry's book if it wasn't a rule then it was definitely not cheating.

 

He cancelled out the magic, putting the next stage of his plan into action.

 

Since there was nothing else in the lake except what they all had to retrieve, it would be easy to find who they were looking for.

 

He backed up several feet, sprinting to the very, very deep hole, jumping for all his might.

 

“Peace out bitches!” he screamed, releasing the parachute he had. It would be ideal for traversing the open space and the fact that the weather was on his side helped tremendously.

 

He hadn't got a clue how the others would proceed, but he really didn't care either. If he was here for the ride, he may as well try his best to win the damn thing.

 

Until today naturally, he'd never actually tried out a parachute. Probably a mistake on his part but if that portion of the plan failed, he did have some reliable spells up his sleeve.

 

There were strings he could pull to alter the direction he chose to go in or for the wind to drop him lower to the ground, or higher. It was more than halfway across the lake that Harry with his admittedly shit vision, thought he'd spotted something.

 

He allowed himself to go lower, enjoying the unique ride offered by something other than Buckbeak or a broom.

 

He came to note there were four people. Ron, Hermione, Cho and a mini version of Miss Baguette, as Harry had taken to calling her. He didn't see it as discriminatory in any way, as he enjoyed that particular kind of bread. Though he actually used the entire thing to make a sandwich and didn't cut sections off. If anything it was a compliment, though her audible sniff and flick of her pretty hair indicated that she didn't share his view.

 

They looked odd on the ground, very much like they should be underwater, but were instead lying flat on their backs, slightly levitated but with a distorted image, much like when trying to see underwater without goggles. It was bizarre. Though Hermione was his friend, he came to understand that Jaffa Cake was the one for her.

 

He'd heard Dumbledang muttering about Krum changing his name to biscuit. But Harry couldn't just lie down and accept that. Krum was a Jaffa. Not the kind which fired blanks, but indeed the item of food which was classified as a cake, since cakes hardened when left in the open and biscuits went soft. He knew he was being awkward and he thought biscuit was a fitting name considering the surname it would go with, but Harry lived life on the edge. Quite literally.

 

He wasted no time in severing the ropes which bound Ron, happily slapping him in the face to wake up from his enchantment.

 

“Ronnikins...” Harry whispered near his ear, making the red-headed teen's ears turn red.

 

“Oh shut up Harry.” he grinned good-naturedly, frowning in confusion. “Where the fuck are we?”

 

“20 POINTS FOR LANGUAGE MR WEASLEY!” McGonagall's voice could be clearly heard with her Sonorous charm.

 

“Shite.” he muttered.

 

“I happen to think you're very articulate Ron and this whole tournament is complete and utter bollocks.”

 

“DETENTION MR POTTER!” This time it was Snape.

 

Harry waved his wand around a bit, producing smoke from the very tip. He let it rise into the air, crafting it into a very unmistakable middle-fingered gesture, large and obvious for everyone to see.

 

He didn't waste time on finding out people's reactions but the deep and heavy breathing indicated that Snape may be about to have some kind of breakdown.

 

“Shall we get out of here?” Harry spoke cheerfully, slinging his arm around his mate's shoulders.

 

“Dobby?”

 

Said house elf appeared in a flash. “What can Dobby be doing for the great Harry Potter?”

 

He pointed to the stands. “Take us back up there will you?”

 

“At once Harry Potter sir!” His smaller hand slipped into his and the three of them reappeared before the judges.

 

Everyone seemed to be speechless. All except one person.

 

“POTTER!” Harry remarked that if he weren't so draped in black, Professor Snape would make a marvellous bull.

 

“Yes?” his tone indicated how much he cared in the face of the man's unmistakable rage.

 

All of a sudden, his eyes narrowed. He sniffed, nostrils like the holes of a chimney as those eyes became dark pits.

 

“You're the one who has taken my Gillyweed, you arrogant little bastard!”

 

Harry's first instinct was to run, but that wouldn't reflect the house he was put in now, would it?

 

“We all need an edge, Sir. I know the Giant Squid lives underwater, but it's not every day he wishes to be high.”

 

“Smoke Gillyweed every day!” He sang.

 

“Harry my boy!” Dumbedang swiftly stepped up to the teen's side. “500 points to Gryffindor for originality and a reference to my favourite song.”

 

He proceeded to pull a joint from his beard, a quick Incendio lighting the tip. He inhaled deeply, creating little smoke rings which evaporated upon the Potion Master's face.

 

“Run along now Severus. May I suggest that you get laid sometime in the future?”

 

The man flushed an ugly red, swooping away like the bat he was. Not even the admonishing words of McGonagall could phase the man.

 

“I didn't know you smoked sir.” Harry eyed the joint in fascination. He wasn't surprised really, people had their ways of coping and Dumbledang's was his joints. At least he knew that the beard wasn't only for fashion purposes.

 

“When I was your age, though back then I used to light the sap from a tree on fire and inhale the fumes,” he commented as though speaking about the weather, taking a particularly long drag.

 

Well, the more you know.

 

It was a few minutes later and while the other champions returned within the time limit, it only took Harry 10 minutes, with the minimum time of another champion of 45 minutes. The other 2 participants returned 50 and 55 minutes respectively. He didn't needle for the details of what they did because frankly, Harry didn't care. While Maxime and Karkaroff gave him the lowest score physically possible and before that demanded he is reprimanded, it was to his smug satisfaction that he was right. No one had ever tried to overcome the task in the way that he did and it was with that reminder that he hastily undid his magic, allowing the black lake to go back to normal.

 

Harry knew he was in first place already, but he did find it amusing that instead of holding up his scorecard, Dumbledore elected to puff out the numbers through his mouth, the joint nearly finished. It was a smoky 100 for Harry! He snickered when Dumbledore conjured himself a gold chain, shades and a cap, where he turned the rim backwards. The dopest Headmaster that had ever lived.

 

To his delight, after he'd finally been able to escape the chaos, Sirius and Remus did take him for more drinks, but instead at Grimmauld Place. Sirius wanted to see his Godson in person. He found to his annoyance that he'd been craving the dog beer he'd drank after The First Task and it caused endless amounts of amusement for Remus.

 

They told Harry if he did want to experiment with drugs, he could only do so with one of them present. He agreed, not interested in drugs anyway, so it was fine by him.

 

“I'm proud of you Harry.” Sirius ruffled his hair fondly, as the three of them sprawled across the couch in the living room, Muggle and Wizarding food and drink littering the otherwise relatively clean house.

 

“Have to make the most of it don't I?” He said, after a long drink of his beer. “Did you like my smoky middle finger to Snape?”

 

“Careful Harry, he may kill you the next time he sees you,” Remus stated, only half joking.

 

“I'll just get Dumbledang to rip into him again. For an old man, he really is savage.” If one good thing could be said about the Tournament, it allowed for better bonding time with two of his favourite people.

 

Once the Tournament was over, he'd definitely invite the Headmaster to drink with them. He had a feeling that hilarity would ensue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With each chapter, my sanity becomes more questionable :P I've decided that the last chapter I'll have Dumbledore join the 3 for drinks ;)


	4. What Is The Function Of A Rubber Duck?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry's got another ingenious idea, Snape can't catch a break and Dumbledang lives for the banter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much action in terms of the Third Task being a task, but really that's because the graveyard scene will be much more fun ;)

“What?!”

  
“Not to worry Harry, you'll have your Quidditch pitch back to normal after the Third Task is finished.” Bagman replied.

 

“But that's beside the point!” he shrieked. “This is like drawing a moustache on the original Mona Lisa, it should be illegal! What stopped you from using any patch of land near here instead of defiling our beautiful Quidditch pitch?”

 

Harry knew that to outsiders, this would seem very over the top and dramatic, but no one understood how much freedom Quidditch and flying gave him. While it would be back to normal seeing the pitch in that state was breaking his heart. He'd get to the cup as quickly as possible if only to spare his poor Quidditch Pitch the pain of being so horribly disfigured.

 

Bagman chose to ignore Harry, providing more details on the Third Task, but Harry was still hung up on the fact that they used the fucking Quidditch Pitch. Damn it all to hell, he was tempted to floo and see Sirius and Remus. It wasn't even after the Third Task yet and already he wanted a drink.

 

* * *

 

Harry thought back to the moment he'd first seen the pitch in its current state, as he eyed the maze sadly. He was in the lead, so had a 5-minute start ahead of the rest but as with the last two tasks, he had a plan.

 

He had small bits of wood in his back pocket. One straight up and another sticking out. They would be his key to the cup.

  
He waved over at Remus and Padfoot, having the privilege of being seated at the front due to being part of his family. Ah, the perks of being him. While there weren't many, at least he had a cool Godfather and his best friend.

 

The whistle blew for Harry to enter. He ran forward immediately, allowing the bushes to close behind him.

 

“Autem,” he muttered to the base of the wood, standing on the part sticking out, doing the same with the other foot. He placed sticking charms on his feet and extended the bottoms so he didn't tip over, repeatedly casting the same charm until he'd fashioned a pair of stilts, tall enough to see everything in the maze, including the cup.

 

“Can he do that?” he heard one official ask among the crowd's shouts.

 

“He's Harry fucking Potter, he can do what he likes.”

 

Ah, good old Dumbledang.

 

He nearly tripped over a Blast-Ended-Skrewt and narrowly avoided a patch of quicksand. Shouting rising above the crowd caught his attention and he nearly fell off when he turned back to watch. five minutes wasn't even up yet, he was fine. Krum was a bit of a dick, Twilight Boy was decent enough and easy to wind up and while Fleur was probably nice, he couldn't help but think back to an episode of Ramsay's Kitchen Nightmares. Once, he'd said to this man, "You French Pig!" and from then on anytime he came across a French person, that insult would spring to mind. What a guy. He blinked himself out of his thoughts, focusing on the commotion.

 

Dumbledang, as he now liked to call himself thanks to Harry, had run out of joints. He was still high, however, but annoyed as he would have to go back to Severus' stores and take some more. It was amusing that he suspected Harry of all people while he didn't suspect Miss Granger stealing from his private stores. It was true, he knew everything going on in the castle and could choose to tell about the incidents involving Severus, but it was far too entertaining to ruin the fun he had watching the clueless yet mysterious bat. Yes, he could very well buy the Gillyweed himself, but much like Harry, he was an avid shit stirrer.

 

He heard Snape muttering and narrowed his eyes.

 

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, BITCH?” he spun around, beard not tucked into his robes so it swung over his shoulder like a facial ponytail.

 

Snape raised both eyebrows. “Wh-”

 

“Wh?” he asked. “That sounds suspiciously close to the start of one of my names, Wulfric. Do you have beef with me, Severus?”

 

The Muggle term was lost on the wizard and every mask which he employed to hide from the world shattered in the face of his utter confusion. “Headmaster, stop being a lemon drop loving old coot and-”

 

“HIYEAHHHH!” A swish of his robes and a well-placed kick, sent Snape flying back into the crowd, landing with a crash on Madam Maxime's lap, upsetting the giant bag of popcorn which one of her Muggleborn students introduced her to.

 

“No one calls me a coot and gets away with it.” he grumbled, doing a 360-degree turn in moods as he shouted, “SEVERUS, PERFECT GET LAID MATERIAL RIGHT THERE! AND FOR YOUR INFORMATION I'M A GILLYWEED LOVING OLD COOT!”

 

It didn't help that Maxime was eyeing him as a starving man would a piece of meat.

 

Harry snickered, turning around to continue with the task and so he was ignorant of what else would happen with Snape/Maxime. That was not something he wanted to scar himself with, thank you very much.

 

He noticed that someone was eye level with him. “Oi!” he transfigured Krum's stilts into 2 rubber ducks, barely wincing at the pained exclamation across from him. “No copying!”

 

 _'The nerve of some people!'_   Harry thought to himself indignantly. He'd spent the past couple of weeks thinking of something just as creative as what he'd done for the second task, (he didn't count the first task since he accidentally killed the dragon) And the bleeding idiot who couldn't say Hermione's name right couldn't come up with something original and resorted to copying?

 

He shook his head, making a few long strides and avoiding certain obstacles which could be detrimental until he was in the clearing with the Triwizard cup in sight.

 

“Descendit.”

 

And as the wood had grown into stilts, they were now reverted to pieces of plain wood. He was about to reach for the cup when a voice stopped him.

 

“Potter.”

 

Harry turned around. “Oh, hi Twilight Boy.”

 

Said boy flushed, frowning. “Don't call me that.”

 

“Oh, I'm sorry, E-d-w-a-r-d.” Harry made sure to pronounce Edward long and slow.

 

As he was spluttering, Harry remembered that with the part-time acting job, women threw their underwear at him. He couldn't help but smirk slightly as with a flick of his wand, the second Hogwarts champion was buried beneath a pile of knickers varying from G-Strings to Bloomers.

 

Laughing outright, Harry took hold of the cup.

 

Looking back on it, he did the boy a favour, definitely saved him from certain death at least.

 

And so, he once again experienced what he believed it would be like to go for a ride in a tumble dryer, full power.

 

Fuck, he hated Portkeys.


	5. Tom Simpson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry fucks Voldemort's shit up. But in what way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet more madness! I think the Graveyard scene deserves more than one chapter xD

It was with a foreboding feeling that after his balls were no longer in his mouth and he wasn't about to vomit up his prostate, Harry came to understand that this was not a Voldemort-free year. Who else would disguise the cup as a Portkey and bring him to a Graveyard? Every single bloody year so far involved the twat in some way. Granted, Sirius, in the end, didn't actually betray his parents and murdered Muggles or work for Voldemort but the guy who did all this shit still does and had.

 

There was a huge cauldron and he could hear shuffling. He had a feeling that it was very important and while he could easily run back and escape, he wanted to fuck shit up but had a pressing matter to deal with. His unzipped his trousers, taking Harry Junior into a hand, relieving himself into the cauldron. Whatever was in here was probably useless now he'd pissed in it, oh well. The less suspicious whoever was here would be, the better. It certainly gave his nickname of _'Golden Boy'_  a whole new meaning.

 

He heard movement his way, so he quickly transfigured one of the pieces of wood he had into a wand while slipping his real one up his sleeve. He made a good show of looking shocked when Wormtail arrived holding what looked to be a small child in a blanket. Perhaps he'd overdone it a tad but he wasn't exactly aiming to get a Bafta or anything.

 

He cradled the child in one hand while using the other to bind Harry to a nearby tombstone. He could free himself of this, but in the meantime clenched his fists and released them, in order to loosen some of the ropes. He was perfectly happy to stay here until they saw fit for him to be released in all honesty, while he wouldn't opt to stay overnight and sleep bound to a headstone, he may as well get himself as comfortable as could possibly be.

 

He blinked incredulously when he got a look at the child. Harry thought children were ugly anyway, especially newborns, but god this one put every ugly thing in the world to shame, not to mention those red eyes.

 

Oh, wait. Ugh.

 

Well, he knew Voldemort was involved somehow and he did wonder to himself where he'd gone after his first year, what with him accidentally killing Quirrell. Then again, he did the man a favour since it couldn't have been painless having a mad bastard stuck to the back of your head. If Harry were him, he'd have shot Voldemort first, then himself since he would've died a slow death anyway. Then again, burning until ashes wasn't exactly a painless way to go.

 

He was impressed that Wormtail had the balls to cut his own hand off. Seeing that this was a ritual of some kind to help bring Voldemort back to power, Harry was glad he'd pissed in the cauldron.

 

“Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken.”

 

And there was another way to ruin plans.

 

“Come on Wormtail, take my blood.” His emerald green eyes bored holes into the man's head. “You know you want to.”

 

Harry willed with all his heart that he indeed wanted blood taken from him, watching in morbid fascination as the knife cut into his arm, his blood sizzling.

 

Did they know that Basilisk venom cancelled out by Phoenix tears was flowing through his veins?

 

He didn't really see it necessary to inform them, knowing that whatever would happen would certainly not be the intention they had.

 

It was a few minutes of Harry listening to Wormtail crying, though this time he really couldn't blame him, that the cauldron started to bubble. The liquid frothed over the sides, oozing into the dry ground below and alarmingly burning holes into it. The cauldron melted too, as Voldechild rose above the mess, slime dripping off his body before he grew in size. He floated gently to a part of the unsoiled ground, obscured for a moment by the black mist which soon became the base of his robes.

 

Harry choked on his own saliva, biting the inside of his cheek so as to not break into hysterical laughter.

 

He'd definitely fucked Voldemort's shit up at least.

 

He was skeletal, humanoid rather than human, but that wasn't the most alarming part. While his facial features were reptilian, his eyes even more snakelike and the texture of his skin looked to be scaly, it was the bright yellow tone of his skin which caught Harry off guard. Tom Simpson had officially been brought to power.

 

Not only was his skin tone off, but his fingernails and toenails looked more like talons and what should have been hair was instead replaced by twisted phoenix feathers. The closest description that Harry could give would be sunset dreadlocks.

 

The newest addition to The Simpson family turned his attention to Harry.

 

“Ah, Harry Potter, we meet at last.” He held out his arm, palm up. His voice would have been suitably chilling, if not for the squawk at the end of his sentence. That added to the fact that he seemed to have realised that something went wrong if by the widening and sudden narrowing of his eyes upon his arm and the glaring at Wormtail were any indication, Harry lost it.

 

“Fucking Hell!” He started snorting, laughing hysterically to the point of tears and in this situation, the best thing about Harry crying with laughter, is that people often had to check to see if he was genuinely sad or laughing for humor's sake, so Harry did hope Voldemort assumed he was crying from fright, or he'd be screwed.

 

Luckily for him, Voldemort thought it was due to fear and not amusement.

 

He ignored Harry for the moment, grabbing Wormtail's arm with the hand and pressing his wand to the mark, cackling and later squawking at the man's squeak.

 

“We will speak of this blunder later, Wormtail.”

 

Harry watched silently as more black mist coated the area, forming into people wearing silver masks and black cloaks. Ah, The Death Eaters, yet another cult.

 

He had a feeling that tonight would be quite memorable.


	6. Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Fucks-Shit-Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has some spells up his sleeve, and the odds are definitely tipped in his favour. That and dicks!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why it took me until now but I've just questioned myself. What the fuck have I written? xD

Harry wished that he could see beneath the silver masks, to read the varying expressions on each one. As it was, he sneakily slipped from the bonds binding him, conjuring a rubber dildo and sticking it in his place. They were all oblivious so he took the opportunity to duck behind a distant tombstone.

 

One Death Eater burst into hysterical giggles but their laughter literally died as green light struck them to the ground. Whether it was at Voldemort's appearance or the dildo, he didn't know.

 

He watched on in incredulity at the grand speech by one Tom Simpson. Several of his followers were shuffling uncomfortably or perhaps shuffling to avoid laughing or even boredom, in case they met the same fate.

 

No, what had Harry in such disbelief now was the fact that he'd been talking about what must have been at least 15 minutes and not one of them had noticed their _'guest of honour'_   was now a _'guest goner.'_

 

Rather sadly, he had to hold back a snicker at his last thought. At this rate he may as well order himself a Pizza from America, maybe go somewhere tropical, have one of those drinks with umbrellas in. Ah, if only...

 

He found himself dozing off, which in retrospect wasn't the best idea. This speech of Voldemort's was putting him to sleep.

 

He stood up, stretching his muscles and hearing the satisfying crack of joints. Slightly worrying since he was 14 years young. He casually walked to the man's back, tapping him on the shoulder.

 

Seeing his face so close proved too much for Harry, as a snort escaped him at the look of genuine shock on his face.

 

"Are you finished? Because I'm over here bored shitless. Now, can we-"

 

Something distracted him. Voldemort had been in the middle of a conversation with Lucius Malfoy of all people. He hadn't seen him since that unfortunate incident in second year.

 

"Oh, Lucia!" Harry cooed, skipping over to to the man who for once, looked speechless. No one said or did anything, merely watching the one who was supposed to vanquish the Dark Lord.

 

"I've missed you, you know. It's been what, two years since you attempted to kill me and set a fanged fucker onto the school? Ah, the romance. It was true, pure. It's lovely to see you!"

 

He leant in close to the man, giving him a smacking kiss on the cheek. His pale face was immediately flushed and there were a few stifled snickers.

 

"You know who else has missed you? Dobby!" Said elf appeared. Harry gestured in front of him.

 

"Look who it is! You have anything you want to say to your old master?"

 

Dobby looked contemplative before an excited gleam entered his eyes. "Dobby is a free elf," He confirmed to himself, before doing the last thing Harry expected.

 

He kicked Lucius square in the bollocks. He didn't know house elves had physical strength, because every male winced simultaneously, as the elder Malfoy dropped to his knees, curling in a foetal position onto the grass.

 

Voldemort honestly had no idea what to do from here and Harry could tell.

 

"Oh, and Tom," Harry spoke over the shouts of "MY NAME IS NOT TOM!" "The reason why you look like a reject from the Muppets is because I took a piss in your cauldron, so you might want to Scourgify that. Not to mention that while Wormy boy over there DID take my blood, I actually willingly gave it to you. I'm Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Didn't-Take-A-Shit."

 

"You did WHAT?!" Voldemort screamed, or rather squawked at the end, not noticing when one robed Death Eater approached the dildo, playing with it by pushing down on the shaft and watching it spring back up and wobble. To Harry, he looked rather a lot like Crabbe, probably his father then. The others stayed in the circle, albeit shuffling nervously.

 

Harry had a rather amusing idea, but not one he'd use on Voldemort. He didn't want to see all the changes the barely human man had gone through, thank you very much.

 

Ut Nudus was a spell of Sirius' making and the translation was literally 'Get Naked.' When the target was struck, he or she would immediately want to remove all items of clothing and run about like maniacs. Not only would it give him a laugh to see Death Eaters acting very much the opposite to dark and foreboding, but it would give him time to focus on Voldemort.

 

There was no wand movement required, more of a keyword than anything. Spoken with a wand pointing at someone would do the trick.

 

"Say, have you ever heard of Ut Nudus?" Harry attempted to make casual conversation with Voldemort, while subtly pointing his wand at the first Death Eater.

 

"Ut Nudus?" The yellow-skinned man shook his head, confused.

 

Oh, did he forget to mention that voice distinction wasn't a thing? Anyone could say the words as long as a wand was pointed so as the Yellow Lord spoke them, Death Eater number two was stripping off.

 

It wasn't long before Tom Simpson's rebirth place was filled with a possible orgy of 'Bad Boys', though Harry thought this was taking bad boys to the extreme. It was certainly one for the Pensieve.

 

"HEY MALFOY, NICE ARSE, LOOKS PINCHABLE!" He swiftly avoided a suspiciously Crucio like spell aimed at him from the blonde man, missing its mark as the man was still curled up. "CAN'T SAY THE SAME ABOUT YOUR PACKAGE, LOOKS LIKE A VAGINA FROM WHERE I'M STANDING!"

 

He snickered at Voldemort's comical expression, probably at his _'let it all hang out'_   Death Eaters and Malfoy suddenly taking off without a word, still undeniably in the buff.

 

He'd also spared Wormtail the spell, his eyes couldn't handle everything you know.

 

He raised both eyebrows and whistled slightly as a trio of Death Eaters looked to be sucking the skin off each other's faces rather than kissing.

 

"Potter, what is this?!" He screeched, sounding more bird-like than ever.

 

"This is the work of Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Fucks-Shit-Up." He said by way of response, watching the chaos for a moment before Clawed-Feet-Mort was hit with a spell of Harry's own creation.

 

"Lux Gallus," Harry called out calmly, waving his wand in a familiar pattern.

 

Which was met by a cry of the green death from Birdemort and to Harry's genuine surprise, their wands with spellfire, connected?

 

"You little bastard!" He shouted to his wand, irritated that his spell hadn't hit but all the same, trying to control the mass of spells in the middle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm making up spells left right and centre, yay for magic :P


	7. Penis of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort gets more than what he bargained for. But then again, so does Harry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to Child_of_Eru for the Rita Skeeter suggestion and the first three article suggestions (which are far better than what I came up with :P) You're the best.

At the start of 4th year, Harry had wondered why his life could never be normal and he bemoaned that fact when he was chosen for the Triwizard tournament. Now he was asking the question once more.

 

Why did it look like they were sperm floating inside a giant golden condom bubble, why were they hovering a few feet in the air and why was Tom's AK beating his light penis? Quite literally, it was a spell with the shape of a 3D Shaft (A nice red colour, his favourite) and if it connected, the recipient would feel phantom sensations of being fucked in the arse, whereby in the distraction, Harry could cause more mischief, win the battle, whatever he pleased.

 

He was trying to push his dick towards Voldemort's wand but much like Snape's love life, he was failing miserably.

 

But then, why should he be? It was his spell, he had an unhealthy obsession with dicks and by the power of Merlin, he'd use that to his advantage. He didn't know if objects could be summoned, but it was worth a try. He pointed his finger in the direction of the bonds he'd escaped earlier.

 

"Accio Dildo!"

 

To cast without a wand and with his non-dominant hand had taken him longer than he'd like to admit but though he knew he was odd, he wasn't suicidal. There wasn't a chance that at his level before all this, he could've outwitted or lasted Voldemort in a real fight. But with his odd mind and spell training, he had every confidence in himself

.

He watched as the rubber slapped Crabbe in the face, penetrating the barrier and landing in his outstretched palm. He faced it towards Voldemort and, pushed.

 

He watched as if in slow motion, the dildo slap Voldemort around the face, his eyes bulging from incredulity and then in pain as it tangled in his dreadlocks. It continued to irritate and hit him until he broke eye contact to cast a wandless spell, opening his mouth.

 

The dildo flew straight in, balls deep in the back of the half bird half man's throat. Harry's silent question of whether he'd retained a gag reflex answered as he starting coughing and choking on the blockage in his throat.

 

This was all the distraction Harry needed. With one final push, the tendrils of magic on Voldemort's side unravelled like threadbare string, the wand exploding in his hand as Harry's light penis did its work.

 

"Honestly, you'd think he was in labour from all those moans and screams." He rolled his eyes. He'd tried it himself before testing on another, his sense of honour demanded it and in truth, it was pleasurable if an odd sensation and during that moment, Harry found out he was indeed bisexual and it answered a lot of his questions.

 

But then again, Voldemort may very well be straight and if so, for him, the only thing he'll have used his arse for is taking a shit.

 

Harry stopped there. The thought of him doing something so normal as emptying his bowels was too bizarre for him to comprehend.

 

Then, as he was lowered to the ground, he blinked. Then blinked again, for good measure.

 

No, he wasn't seeing things. Yes, there were ghosts erupting from the fragments of the exploded wand.

 

An old man stood before him, the one which he remembered he'd seen in a dream months ago. He looked around and at himself in slight shock as Harry could see realisation enter his empty eyes.

 

"I'm dead, aren't I?" He whispered to himself, taking note of the situation. "Looks like you've gone a thumpin' good job already, but kick that fucker's arse will you?" He gave a little salute, not feeling the need to distract the man who'd killed him any further, as he was clearly already preoccupied with a distraction. He did, however, do a double take at the almost orgy happening between several naked men. Pretending he, in fact, hadn't seen that, he passed on into the next world.

 

Harry didn't know about kicking Voldemort's arse, he was getting fucked in the arse though.

 

A woman, just as ghostly as the man, appeared. "I second his opinion." She stated, giving a fierce glare in Voldemort's direction. "I only wish that device would fuck his mind, as he raped mine searching for information. My time is up, but yours is just beginning young man. Take life into your arms and embrace it fully." She left also, with those words of advice.

 

All thought processes stopped and he nearly lost concentration. While everyone was distracted, it wouldn't do him any good to be caught off guard. If these were the ghosts killed by Voldemort's hands?

 

Moments later, the ghostly form of his mum looked at him in amusement.

 

"Hi, mum!" Harry waved, grinning cheekily.

 

”What crawled up your arse and died? I know you hate my Dad and you still get wet dreams over my Mum, but it doesn't mean to say you have to get your teeth out at me!” She quoted back, looking at him sternly.

 

He had the grace to look sheepish.

 

"Wet dreams is all Severus will be getting too. He's a shell of the man I once knew. The Headmaster and I had our disagreements but for once I can agree with him on something. Severus does need to get laid. He's become rather sad and pathetic. I don't date those who bully my child."

 

Harry stared, shocked. "Mum, you're the best!"

 

Both of them instinctively went in for a high five and it was only afterwards that Harry realised that wasn't supposed to happen.

 

"Hang on how did we?" He questioned, looking at his hand as if it didn't belong there.

 

"Magic," She whispered mysteriously, giving a laugh. "Your father wants to talk to you. You make me so proud and I'm glad you're doing this farce of a tournament your own way."

 

With a last nod, she bid him goodbye to make way for the practically carbon copy version of him, if not for the age difference.

 

James Potter filled Harry's vision in a burst of ghostly light, ghost glasses dropping off the bridge of his nose as he howled with laughter, going on his hands and knees to retrieve them.

 

He went to wipe tears from his eyes but momentarily forgot that tear ducts weren't a thing when someone was dead.

 

"Oh Harry, you're a true Marauder. You prank a Dark Lord and his minions, you give Snape hell and you generally cause chaos in the lives of everybody. I've never been more proud. We will see each other again one day. Until then, take care of Moony and Padfoot and say hi to them for me will you?"

 

He patted Harry on the shoulder, leaving it there for a moment.

 

"I will," Harry replied solemnly, too much in shock to cry if he were honest.

 

"Good lad." He smirked slightly, hearing Lily's call for him. With some final words of goodbye, the last ghost from the shattered fragments of Voldemorts wand passed to a better plane.

 

He'd been that focused on the ghosts, he'd forgotten about his surroundings. Voldemort was whimpering, or at least his version, curled into a foetal position on the ground as the dildo left red imprints from repeated slapping on his yellow body. Most of the death eaters had disappeared, though a few chose to create life where life ended if you caught Harry's meaning.

 

He quickly averted his eyes, finally stopping the dildo's attack though the elder man didn't notice. He quickly used ropes to bind the dreadlocked Lord, casting a featherlight charm and placing him into a cage, which he quickly shrunk. Any longer than a few minutes and it would probably cause irreversible damage, but it's not as if he hadn't ruined his ritual anyway.

 

"Peace out bitches!" He shouted in farewell to the _'engaging in sexy time'_   Death Eaters, summoning the cup and disappearing in a nauseating whirl.

 

Meanwhile, in the folds of Harry's robes, Rita Skeeter was reeling from all the information she'd learned. There was no need to twist the truth or lie, the facts were shocking enough! She could just see the headlines:

  
_'Golden Boy Earns His Title!'_

  
_'Death Eater Nuts - Crazed Purebloods Bare All!'_

  
_'Lucius Malfoy's Peacock (It Really Is the Size of a Pea, Trust Us!)'_

  
_'You Know Who Takes It up the You Know Where.'_

  
_'Lily Potter, Friend Zoning Beyond the Grave.'_

  
_'House Elf Strikes Back: Pureblood Is Pure-Eunuch.'_

  
The possibilities were endless and they could be the turning point of her career. Rubbing her hairy little legs in excitement and anticipation of the juicy articles, she burrowed deeper into Potter's robe, clinging on as he touched the Portkey once more.


	8. You Spin Me Right Round

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Dumbledore shares the joy of Gillyweed and being champions, Harry accidentally manages to aid in the capture of a Death Eater disguised as a mad Auror.

Harry couldn't decide which was worse, the trip there or the trip back, at least with Portkeys. He supposed at least he managed to capture a not so Dark, but bright yellow Lord. That had to count for something.

 

He kept hold of that cage tighter than Maxime was squeezing Snape, not letting go for a second. Not even when he landed awkwardly, the crowd watching as he skidded for several feet, only stopping when Dumbledang placed a foot on his moving body, though he'd dropped the cup upon his arrival.

 

"Fucking Portkeys," He mumbled, stretching out an arm with the cage though his face remained firmly planted in the grass. "Dumbledang, look what I caught."

 

As the foot was removed from his back Harry righted himself, handing the cage to Dumbledore who narrowed his eyes in interest, an unlit joint tucked into his beard as he smoked the last of his current one.

 

He took the cage, shaking it vigorously and placing his ear near as both could hear the sounds of protest.

 

"Wonderful! He can keep Fawkes company. I shall call him Tommy. Lemon drop?" He poked one through the bars only for it to rebound and bonk him on the nose, small beady red eyes glaring at him viciously.

 

"Joint?" Dumbledang tried again, this time with something which had never failed to bridge the gap. In truth, he could get more whenever he wanted.

 

"Incendio." Harry lit the tip of his wand to the joint.

 

"Thank you, my boy." Ignoring the incredulous looks aimed towards them, he poked the joint through the bars and though he still glared holes, Squawkemort did accept it, puffing away, every breath suggesting nothing but death and destruction once he escaped from his confines.

 

"There was this fucked up ritual going on so I pissed in his rebirth cauldron." Harry offered that bit of information as the man's eyebrows rose.

 

"Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Diddled-With-His-Fiddle-Over-Riddle." While Dumbledang managed to say this with a serious face it didn't last for long, as he began to howl with laughter. Minerva wondered if she shouldn't reserve a place in St Mungo's.

 

Harry approached the other champions, leaving Dumbledore to it. "Oi, Edward! Aren't you glad I covered you in knickers? If I hadn't you'd have been killed by that thing over there." He pointed to the cage.

 

"What is it?" Twilight boy frowned, looking in that direction.

 

"Voldemort."

 

Harry wasn't joking. After the Hufflepuff gave his thanks, though slightly doubtful, Harry's face split into a grin. "So tell me, what's the secret of immortality?"

 

He sprinted off before he could get an answer, sure that the boy would use his long life to hunt Harry down and kill him for being an annoyance.

 

He returned to Dumbledore who beckoned him over, cage tucked under one arm until he handed it over to McGonagall. "Look after Tommy for a short while Minerva."

 

He rubbed his hands in glee, bouncing on the spot as Minerva gingerly took the cage, looking at the contents in disgust.

 

"ATTENTIOOOOOOOON!" Dumbledang cried, piercing Harry's eardrums with the sudden sonorous but all turned in their direction.

 

He held the Triwizard cup in one hand. Harry didn't even notice him remove the Portkey effect or summon it. Dumbledore conjured a brightly coloured stage, elevated just to the right height so everyone could see, dragging Harry up to stand next to him.

 

"And the winner of the Triwizard Tournament is..." He paused for dramatic effect, also to take a puff of his joint. Expectant eyes stared but he paid no mind, humming to himself for a short while then nearly giving everyone a heart attack as she shouted again.

 

"HARRY FUCKING POTTER!" Dumbledang cheered loudly, handing the cup to Harry who warily took it, joint in his mouth as his now unoccupied hands threw several middle and double-fingered gestures vigorously towards Madam Maxime and Karkaroff as multicoloured streamers rained down upon them.

 

Harry choked on a laugh, Karkaroff highly insulted but Maxime not as much as she would be, if not for Snape occupying all her attention. He seemed to have forgotten how to use magic as he physically struggled against her, so pale Harry was tempted to paint his nose orange to complete the snowman look he had going on.

 

Harry thought that would be the end of it, but he couldn't be more wrong. He had a suspicion that this was pre-planned, Dumbledore giving a nod to Fred and George who with a little tweaking of muggle devices, managed to play 'We Are The Champions' loud and clear.

 

The stage had vanished and in its place was a red carpet, stretching from one side to the other, as far as it could possibly go. Then, Hagrid approached them both, standing on the red carpet and as he did, Dumbledore transfigured his clothing so he wore a yellow jacket, white shirt and white trousers with a double red stripe. Harry thought he'd make a good Freddie Mercury, as long as those watching him had enough to drink that Hagrid started to look like him.

 

And then without any warning, Harry was lifted to sit on one shoulder, Dumbledore perched on the other as Hagrid slowly walked along the red carpet. Harry lit his wand with lumos, caught up in the music that he waved it about like a lighter at a concert. His fellow Gryffindors did the same, Fred, George and Ron some of the first people and after muttering among themselves some of the Hogwarts students and even students from other schools followed suit, apparently as caught up in the mood and music as he was.

 

Harry was impressed that Hagrid managed to reach the end of the carpet around the same time as the song ended, as one of his strides when walking normally equalled at least three of his own.

 

As if the song didn't make a point, Dumbledore grasped the hand which was still holding onto the cup, one of their hands for each handle as brightly coloured fireworks lit the sky.

 

It happened, just as everything was winding down and he was about to approach Remus and Sirius, who had turned up to watch as Padfoot again. Moody, out of nowhere, grasped Harry's arm and just when Harry made eye contact to give him a piece of his mind, Moody released his arm as though he'd been burned.

 

He wasn't the best at Occlumency. In fact, right now, he was shite at it. Every single thought remained at the front of his mind, especially what happened in the graveyard and against his will, Moody was drawn in. As he watched Harry speak the words Ut Nudus, he frowned.

 

Ut Nudus?

 

Harry's eyes widened. He definitely forgot to mention that all voices counted when speaking those words, even inner ones.

 

He tried to look away, he really did, however, it was one of those rare moments in life where you're horrified, but you can't seem to take your eyes off it. The occasional scream and grunts of disgust from the audience when Moody took off his clothing were unmistakeable, Harry unable to help but think he resembled a human mosaic.

 

He wasn't sure whether to laugh or kill Sirius for this spell when the madness kicked in, amplified since Moody was already 29 Knuts short of a Sickle. Apparently, his eye was very adjustable, the strap able to magically extend to the point where Moody could wear it as a belt. Only, he chose to place his eye on top of the bald, more intimate head.

 

Harry couldn't even begin to describe how disturbing it was to have an eye look at you from down there, while where the eye should have been was nothing but a patched up socket.

 

"I take back my words, this is FAR more disturbing." Harry uttered, taking a step back in Alarm as Moody engaged in meatspin, his electric blue eye looking in every possible direction, Dumbledore's head following in a circular motion, half-moon glasses perched on the end of his nose in apparent concentration.

 

Harry had to finally tear his eyes away, he was feeling slightly nauseous, both from the strangely hypnotising movement and the sight itself, but he needn't have worried.

 

A few moments later, he was concerned the grunting noises were for entirely different reasons, but turned back and watched in morbid fascination, as did the rest of the crowd. Save for Moody it was silent enough you could hear a House Elf drop.

 

Moody's member changed shape entirely, increasing in size to the point where it was stretched so tight, his eye sprang off and twanged into his ballbag, much like an elastic band.

 

His entire body twisted and bubbled into a different shape, falling to his knees in pain as his eye remained swirling about, resting near the point of impact.

 

Most of the men simultaneously winced. The only ones not doing as much were Snape who by this point, was carried off bridal style by Madam Maxime. She apparently couldn't wait to get her hands on him and as a result, Snape didn't see what happened.

 

Dumbledore was far too high to care, both from the Gillyweed and Harry's victory. Though he did wonder if St Mungo's actually did prosthetic testicles. Though, one thing he did wonder as he watched the ministry officials drag away a very naked and in pain Barty Crouch Junior, where his friend was exactly.

 

He thought it was strange when Alastor accepted a joint, the man always refused to keep his mind sharp but between them over the past couple of months, they'd managed to run Severus' supply of Gillyweed dry, cackling in glee that he suspected Harry rather than his own boss. Even if he found out there was nothing he could do. If he'd said it once he'd said it a thousand times, Severus was a prime example of a man badly in need of a good lay. He'd seen Maxime carry him off earlier so with any luck, he'd be more than the Head of Slytherin House by the time she was finished with him tonight.

 

Though he didn't expect Barty, it did explain the sudden love for Gillyweed and with that thought in mind he went to check the quarters Barty stayed in, taking Tommy from Minerva in the process. He softly cooed at him and when he got too annoyed, let him have a joint or a sniff of his own, the fumes calming him.

 

"Well then," Harry spoke, watching Dumbledore marching off, in good walking condition all things considered.

 

He really needed a drink but before anything he finally approached his friends, speaking with them for a short while until he approached the two he needed to see, for more than just their company, but everything which had happened when the Portkey took him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took ages! Sorry about that. It's the same with my other fics, I'm attempting to update every fic which needs it, so my next and last update of the next fic will be detention of a different sort :)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a one shot for now,I'm testing with some of my newer ideas,to see how they're received. I couldn't really end it as though there wouldn't be more,so I left it open in case I wanted to add anything.


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